The first time she had watched the magic spell mutate was when she had released a spell for rain and more than ten creative people read it. She had then compounded that spell and released it again to be read anew. The resulting spell was for a proliferation of butterflies that she had watched gracefully fill the space in her garden. It was a beautiful sight indeed to watch the tiger backs and other species frolic among the flowers. As a result there had been so many more flowers growing in the garden for the rest of the other springs.
She then thought about GAIA’s program for natural disasters that were supposed to occur on the Earth. It was difficult even when connected to GAIA to explain to her that she did not need to carry out her plan of natural disasters to reduce the number of human beings let alone when not connected to her. She seemed bent on her intent and saw the proliferation of human beings on her surface as a disease that required a remedy. According to GAIA, the remedy was to tackle this disease by reducing it in given areas.
She thought back to how human beings also thought they should preserve balance among wild animals in reserve parks by hunting down the ones that proliferated beyond the sustainable level for equilibrium. Surely she could see how GAIA, with the loss of connection to most human beings, perceived them as a threat to the balance upon her. If only human beings were more connected to GAIA she thought. Surely if human beings changed their parasitic way of behaving towards nature, GAIA could be persuaded to not initiate that series of disasters. It seemed, however, that the first of the series of disasters had already been set in motion…
She had always known she was a white witch, but it was only recently that she had found out that she was also a shaman. The knowledge had come to her after a particularly striking episode when she had been dancing to trance music and had experienced a shamanic journey into another world. She never consumed drugs so knew that there had to be truth to that journey. It was a world where spirits walked in fumes with nothing separating them from other human beings. She had looked around her in the night club and nobody else seemed to be noticing the spirits yet all of them were dancing to the same music she was dancing to.
She looked around her fascinated. The stroboscopic lights cast around filled the fumes of the spirits with various lights making them look like rainbows disintegrating on the dance floor. She wondered what the spirits were doing in the night club. Were they not meant to be somewhere more peaceful, she thought? One spirit seemed to realize that she was looking right at it and not through it and came up close to her. She was not sure she felt comfortable enough this close to it and raised a hand. It went right through the spirit who laughed. It was not a wicked laugh, just a friendly amused one. She laughed back. They were not as terrible as many made them to be. They only wanted to be part of this world just like us, she thought.
That was all before she discovered the extent of the Shamanic gift. How it could allow her to summon either the raven’s rains or the fires of the phoenix. That was before she discovered that the combination of the witch capacities and the shamanic gift could help mold consciousness itself
She wove conscientiously the points keeping in mind most of the time the greatest good of all. She knew that some of what she wove would not be witnessed in her time but in eons to come. Other parts of what she wove were for immediate results or results on the short or medium term. In the beginning it had been disappointing that the desires she had did not have an immediate resolution but she had learnt to accept this. She looked upon her task as a humanitarian one as she was weaving a better consciousness. She wondered how many out there were like her weaving a better series of connections into the collective consciousness.
Sometimes, her old shadows returned and she would need to stop the weaving during those days. That could mean no weaving for several days in a row. She always wondered whether her consciousness would still be connected so closely with the collective consciousness to affect it in a significant way or if these days of absence would have weakened the contact. Every time she had such doubts they were dispelled immediately when she returned to weave for the greatest good of all and saw the almost immediate results. She wondered how she could cope with her shadow selves to bring them out to the light and no longer have to sit in between all the time. This would allow her to keep weaving every day instead of having to make a pause.
One day she caught herself talking to one of her shadow selves that had strayed into the room. It was no longer lurking behind her as they always tended to do when they manifested, watching her, thinking she was unaware of their presence or pretending they thought that. She normally would only observe them and try to fill them with light but they would take cover, literally and refuse to be dissolved most of the time although she had been able to lighten a couple of them. Today however, she decided to talk to the one who had unwittingly strayed into the room.
Why do you need to provoke the advent of darkness, she said
Because that is what we are made of, she answered
But you are me and if you are me, you cannot be made of darkness for I am light
There is no light without darkness so therefore if you are light, we have to be darkness
Will you always exist? Is there no end to some of you?
Who knows? You have taken such liberty with the self that there is so much light. We have kept some to ourselves. It is our bubbles of liberty where we choose to express the colours grey and black. Are they not colours too? Why refuse them? Surely as an artist you should know that a palette must be complete? How would you paint the night without us? Or the ravens or the dark clouds if not for those colours?
She thought to herself that she must be right. She should perhaps leave them these bubbles of liberty.
She continued her whirling feeling lighter as she slowly connected both to the skies and the Earth at the same time. He seemed to have left the threshold and entered the room and she felt his silent mood grow. It was as if he was trying to figure out how best to tackle the fact that she was now ignoring all his taunts. He wondered then whether he should just dismiss her from his life as he could have virtually anyone he wanted to have. Was he not the ultimate saviour? She spiraled higher into the bliss provoked by the sensation of the sufi whirling. He disappeared from her thoughts as the feelings of bliss got more intense.
He sensed her escaping his reach and riled against it. It was not that she was pretty or intelligent, it was something beyond the physical and the intellectual, it was something related to her metaphysical ability to elude him despite his alchemy skills. He, who prided himself on being a master of alchemy was unable to bend her mind and soul so that she would be just another creature submitting to his will. The challenge tickled and irritated him all at once. He could see now that she was slowing down her sufi whirling and attempted a new line of action he had never attempted before. He tried to scare her.
She could feel the building up of his anger now behind her but she merely mirrored it back at him from within her peace. She could see with her mind’s eye how he struggled against his own anger before overcoming it by transforming it again into nothingness. She could sense his amazement and the questions welling within him on how she could have acquired the skill of reducing all his psychic attacks to something sent back to him. Was she no longer pining for him like she used to? Was there no longer that initial love present that he could transfigure into hate and thereby into fear? She merely smiled back at him. Look at the skies how they smile, she said and he felt strangely lightheaded as she uttered those words.